


The Sound Of Silence

by whitecrossgirl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 17:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitecrossgirl/pseuds/whitecrossgirl
Summary: Canon AU: Instead of cutting off Jaime's hand, Locke instead cuts out Jaime's tongue, leaving him mute. As he and Brienne travel, they begin to develop a signing language and a closer bond between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this signing isn't accurate with ASL/BSL or Makaton but some inspiration did come from it. Translation for the signing is in italics.

At the beginning of their journey, she would have longed for Jaime to master the ability of keeping his mouth closed, but not like this. He had saved her from being attacked by Locke’s men, but the price he had paid for it was a severe one. They had mentally tormented him by making Jaime think that they would cut off his right hand. Instead, they had taken his tongue. The tongue that dripped with Lannister Lies as Locke had dubbed it before forcing Jaime to wear it until they reached Harrenhall and the Boltons.

In Harrenhall, the strange maester Qyburn managed to ensure that the remnants of his tongue would not choke him or bleed more than it had done. Although Jaime struggled to eat, he found that he was able to have softer foods or food that had been cut into tiny pieces. Despite being unable to speak a word; Jaime’s rage at having lost his tongue could be clearly be seen and Brienne found herself speaking for him whenever she could attempt to work out what he wished he could say. Aside from sharing a bath, they barely communicated beyond looks or basic signals until Jaime had rescued her from the Bear Pit and they walked out of Harrenhall; wounded, barely armed, still not friends but with a shift in their barely amicable relationship.

Brienne waited until they were several miles from Harrenhall before she decided to break the silence. She had questions that needed answered and although Jaime was unable to speak, she still wanted to try and communicate with him. When she had been a child in Tarth, one of the stable boys had been unable to speak after suffering a kick to the throat by a bucking horse. He managed to use facial expressions, actions and signs in order to communicate with other people. It was possible for her and Jaime to do the same.

“Why did you do that? Why did you come back?” Brienne asked as Jaime opened his mouth, closed it again. He seemed frustrated at the reminder that he couldn’t speak before he paused to think for a moment. After a few minutes, Jaime closed his eyes and rested his head on his joined hand before he pointed at Brienne.

“Sleeping, me,” Brienne interpreted before it made sense. “You had a dream about me?”

Jaime nodded and repeated the action.

_I dreamed of you._

“I’m sorry,” Brienne said as Jaime looked at her puzzled. “It’s my fault that this happened to you. We could have fought them off together but I was reluctant to trust you. You almost died twice because of me.”

Jaime shook his head furiously and pointed to himself.

_It was me. _

He pointed to himself a second time and opened and held his wrists together as if chained.

_ I got us captured. _

He pointed to himself a third time and made a motion as if to jump before pointing at her.

_I jumped into the pit for you._

“You’re saying that you were the one speaking, you got us captured and you jumped into the pit yourself?” Brienne guessed and Jaime nodded. “Because of me.”

Jaime frowned and pointed to himself again.

_Me. _

“I’m not arguing with you, how about this: we both had a part in it and we’re equally to blame?” Brienne suggested and Jaime nodded before pointing to himself again. “How are you still irritating, without a tongue?”

For the first time since they got captured by Locke’s men, Jaime smiled cockily and shrugged his shoulders innocently.

_I don’t know._

As the days passed, Brienne could see that having lost his tongue was beginning to irritate Jaime. Being unable to speak, to suggest directions, acknowledge something or eat or a place to sleep, even just saying what was on his mind; was frustrating and she knew that he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Brienne knew that he was having nightmares as the only sounds he could make, were horrific guttural yells that he only made when he was in the depths of a nightmare. Nightmares which only made the feeling of irritation run deeper as Jaime couldn’t explain the cause of his nightmares. Brienne had the feeling that they went beyond his mutilation but wasn’t sure how to ask.

As they walked along the edge of a river one day, Brienne decided to offer Jaime the idea that she had been giving some serious thought to over the past few nights. “When I was a child, there was a stable boy who couldn’t speak. He didn’t know his letters so instead he used actions, gestures and facial expressions to speak. You tried it before but we could do it properly,”

Jaime considered the idea and nodded. Aside from the most basic and universally understood gestures such as nodding, shrugging and thumbs up or down; he was limited in what he could communicate. Anything had to be better than nothing.

As the days turned to weeks and they travelled further and further south; Jaime and Brienne managed to develop a large number of signs, symbols and movements to refer to words, actions, places and people. To assist Jaime’s understanding and skill of performing several actions in a row; Brienne practised and predominantly used their new method of communication in place of speaking. As they built the silent language, they found that they were learning more about each other by not saying a word than they probably would have if Jaime had been able to speak.

Just as they came within the final fifteen miles of the capital. Jaime sat by the fire and looked at Brienne. He mimed crowning himself before slitting his throat.

_Kingslayer. _

“What is it?” Brienne asked and Jaime repeated the action. “King. Slit throat. Are you trying to say Kingslayer?”

Jaime nodded and scowled at her before he mimed crowning himself again.

_The Mad King. _

“Aerys,” Brienne summarised and Jaime picked up different items from the ground with one hand and repeated the scowl and crowning movement before tossing the items into the fire. Making a point to show each item on fire to Brienne before tossing it into the flames.

_He burned anyone who disobeyed him. _

“He burnt things, no, people. People he hated.” Brienne translated and Jaime nodded. He was unsure of how to explain on the certain day but Brienne filled in for him. “So on the day you killed him, what happened?”

Jaime thought for a moment before drawing a ‘T’ in mid air, pointed upwards and pointed to himself. Brienne watched him repeated the movement, T, up, Jaime. No that wasn’t it. T, big, Lannister. “Tywin Lannister, your father?” Brienne guessed and Jaime nodded.

“Your father arrived at the capital,” Brienne said; she knew that part of the story. Tywin had waited until the last moment to announce his declaration for Robert Baratheon. A clever move to allow him to reach the capital without being attacked by either side. It was only when the city gates were opened that Tywin unleashed his bannermen onto the city.

Jaime clasped his hands together before miming cutting off a head and holding it out as if presenting a gift. 

_I begged the king, he ordered my father’s head._

“He wanted your head?” Brienne asked and Jaime gave her a thumbs down. Wrong. “Your father’s head.”

Jaime gave her a thumbs up, (correct), before picking up a large green leaf, pointing to it and to the fire. Brienne watched him do it and tried to understand what he meant. Leaf fire? No that was stupid. Green fire… “Wildfyre? The Mad King had Wildfyre?”

Jaime nodded morosely; once again pointing to the flames but then all around them.

_Burn them all. _

“He was going to burn the city,” Brienne realised and Jaime nodded once more and repeated the action. Burn them all. Brienne knew enough of the story to fill in the rest of the gaps. “So you killed the Pyromancer and then killed the King.”

Jaime sighed and repeated the gesture, this time making a speaking mouth sign with his left hand. 

_Burn them all, he said. Burn them all. _

“He said ‘burn them all’?” Brienne asked and Jaime nodded and made the hand speaking sign constantly for about a minute. “He didn’t stop?”

Jaime slumped his shoulders and mimed slitting his own throat. Brienne didn’t need a translation for what that meant. Brienne’s mind was racing with questions; questions that she knew, even with Jaime’s developed signing, he would be unable to answer. Even if he could still speak, they were question she knew that he would be unable to answer. She wanted to ask him why he had never spoken of it before; how had he handled being labelled with such cruel, untrue monikers such as Oathbreaker or Man Without Honour. Instead of asking the questions, Brienne instead put a hand on his arm. She wasn’t sure why after all this time, Jaime had trusted her to tell her his version of what happened but it said a lot more than either of them realised.

“I believe you Lannister.” Brienne said. Once again, Jaime shook his head but made a gesture that she hadn’t seen before. He held up the thumb and forefinger of his left hand before pointing to himself with his left hand, holding that pose. He did it twice more before Brienne realised what it was. The letter J and himself.

“Jaime,” Brienne said, repeating the action, the way he had.

Jaime smiled and repeated the action, pointing to himself twice and repeating it again.

_Jaime. My name’s Jaime._

It took them a few more days to reach Kings Landing but in that time, they had built a whole series of actions and signs to use for communication; from their names being their first letter being drawn before pointing to the self and tilting their head either way to decide who would do something. As the spires of the Red Keep rose up in front of them; they wandered through the city, listening out for any sort of news, rumour or even gossip about the nobles but there was very little they could hear. Most of it was talk of the upcoming royal wedding between Joffrey and Lady Margaery Tyrell. As they reached the gates of the Red Keep, a pair of guards stopped them.

“Who are you?” One of them asked and Jaime rolled his eyes. He looked at Brienne and tilted his head to the right.

_You deal with this. _

“Ser Jaime Lannister and Lady Brienne of Tarth,” Brienne answered as Jaime showed them his sword; the rubies and lion engraved into the hilt helped to confirm his identity. “We’re here to see Lord Tywin.”

“Right away,” the second guard said, wondering why Jaime wasn’t speaking. As they were let inside, Brienne saw the anxious expression on Jaime’s face and she looped her little finger around his, squeezing it tightly. One of the signs they had developed for when one of them had a nightmare. One that meant comfort, support and friendship.

_I’m here with you. _

Jaime smiled at her and touched his temple with three fingers.

_I know. _


	2. All That Silence Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Kings Landing where the Lannisters are their usual Lannister selves. Jaime and Brienne grow closer.

Brienne could sense the nervous tension in Jaime as they walked through the Red Keep. She had heard the stories, legends and myths surrounding Tywin Lannister and although she had never met him; she could tell there were truths intertwined with the myths. Jaime kept his little finger tightly looped around hers and she could feel his hand tremble slightly. He didn’t seem like the boastful, arrogant Lannister she had met, rather he seemed like a little boy, worried about getting in trouble. It stirred her resolve. She would speak for them both and she would not be intimidated by or kowtow to Tywin Lannister.

She faced a bear armed with only a wooden sword.

She would not tremble before the lion.

When they entered the room, Brienne looked at Tywin; tall, slim and carrying the arrogance and honour that came from the Lannister name. His eyes were apprehensive, the mind scheming and plotting behind them as he took in their haggard appearance; Jaime’s scruffy hair and beard; their filthy clothes, he barely cast a look in Brienne’s direction. All of his attention was focused on Jaime.

“What took you so long?” Tywin asked in a cold, yet commanding voice. Clearly he had expected Jaime returned to the capital months ago.

Jaime looked at his father. He crossed his wrists together, as if bound before he shook his head, opened his lips and dragged his finger across them in a single, swiping motion.

_We were captured. They cut out my tongue._

“Speak boy,” Tywin ordered and Jaime glanced at Brienne; he still had apprehension in his eyes as she stepped forward.

“Jaime cannot speak; one of your men cut out his tongue when they captured the two of us.” Brienne explained and Tywin looked at her for the first time.

“And who exactly are you?” Tywin asked, although he could hazard a guess. The few witness reports he had of his son mentioned the tall woman in armour accompanying him.

“Brienne of House Tarth, I was Catelyn Stark’s sworn sword, ordered to being Ser Jaime back to the capital in exchange for her daughters. I am aware it is no longer possible.” Brienne replied calmly. They had heard the news one night when they had stopped in a tavern; they were still close enough that a few of the voices whispered their disgust at such a slaughter, especially at a wedding.

“Indeed; the younger Stark girl has not been seen since her father’s execution; Sansa Stark has married my son Tyrion.” Tywin replied as he pushed forward a quill and a scroll of parchment. “You might not have a tongue but you have both of your hands. Write.”

Jaime glanced at Brienne and glared at the parchment and scroll. He had always struggled with reading and writing; the letters would move around the page and he could spell the words in his head but never when they were formed by his hand. He did however, have one question for his father, one he was struggling to think of the actions for.

_What will hapen to me now? _Jaime scrawled on the parchment and pushed it to Tywin. If Tywin noted the misspelt word, for once he did not comment on it.

“You cannot remain in the Kingsguard. You can’t give your king the warning of an attack, or give orders to your men. I will speak with the king and you will be respectfully withdrawn from service. You will take my place as my son and heir and we will find you a bride.” Tywin explained; of course he had it all planned out. Tywin Lannister always had everything planned out.

Jaime wished he could speak; that he could rant, yell, swear and shout. He had spent months in captivity, travelled the length of Westeros, been captured, had his tongue removed, almost died several times and now that he had returned; what had he returned to? He would be removed from the Kingsguard, forced to take the role in life he had never wanted to take; lordship, marriage, heirs. Maybe it was foolish for him to have hoped for the slightest sign of care and consideration from his father.

Brienne had removed her finger from his when they had entered the room. She now linked it around her own again and turned her hand so that she was stroking the back of it with her thumb. With her other hand, she held it flat against her chest and pushed it downwards.

_I’m here with you. Calm down._

Jaime nodded at her and unlinked their fingers. He looked at Tywin again and pressed his fingers to his chin and held it outwards to him. It was his own show of defiance. He would not write, only sign.

_Thank you._

“You will need a bath,” Tywin said finally. “You still have your bedchamber.”

With that, Tywin opened the door and ordered one of the men standing outside to fetch a servant who would arrange a bath for Jaime. Upon the servant’s return, Jaime nodded at Brienne and left the room. He would find her later, hopefully unlike him, she would be in one piece. When the door slammed shut behind Jaime, Tywin fixed his attention on Brienne.

“You’re Selwyn Tarth’s daughter.” It wasn’t a question. He knew exactly who she was, about her House, her homeland, her suitability for his son.

“Yes, I am.” Brienne replied, not that Tarth was anything too special. Well, it was to her at least. It wasn’t one of the large, powerful houses or lands, however it was one of the best ports and places for trade with Dorne, Essos, Mereen, even as far away as Yi Ti.

“Tarth has declared neutrality in this war; how is it that the Evenstar’s only child and heir was sworn to the Starks?” Tywin asked and Brienne kept his gaze. She still did not see what was so intimidating about him. She knew of his power, of his plots and schemes, yet he did not intimidate her. He did not frighten her. They both knew that if anything, he owed her. She had returned Jaime to him; alive, if not fully well. Tywin Lannister owed her a debt.

And a Lannister always paid his debts.

“I was part of Renly Baratheon’s guard; after his death, I helped Lady Stark return to her son. I was sworn to protect her, not to the Starks. Protecting one person does not mean I protect or stand with them all. As of her death, I am sworn to no one and I respect my House’s neutrality. I want no sides in this war.” Brienne replied carefully. Although not one of her preferred lessons, she knew how to play politics. How to say the right thing in the right tone. How to play her part in the game.

“And my son,” Tywin prompted and still Brienne held his gaze. “You understand those actions he makes?”

“I do, he rescued me from a bear pit in Harrenhall when your ally Roose Bolton had me flung into it. Despite his inability to speak, we were able to communicate by developing a signing language. He is my friend,” Brienne explained before adding the next two words. “Nothing more.”

Tywin contemplated her words in silence for a moment before he spoke. “Then I thank you for returning my son to me. I owe you a debt. For now, you may stay in the Red Keep and serve as his interpreter.”

“Thank you,” Brienne said; they both knew he was making it sound like an assignment. Like he could control her, make her spy on Jaime and report back to him. It was actually a pitiful sign to her that Tywin held no interest in learning how to understand Jaime’s signing. To him, Jaime was perfect this way. A silent son couldn’t contradict, criticise or complain; three things Tywin loathed above all else.

For the second time, Tywin got a guard to arrange for a handmaiden, a bedchamber and a bath for Brienne. As she scrubbed weeks of dirt and filth from her skin, Brienne wondered how Jaime was going to cope. The two of them had built a strong knowledge and understanding on the road together; now that they were back with the rest of his family, they would have to begin again. His father had already refused to learn, she had to wonder how Cersei and Tyrion would react.

As it turned out, Cersei was able to outdo Tywin’s ignorance by completely ignoring Jaime. He had tried to visit her, yet she refused to see him. She had already been informed of his lack of tongue and she was repulsed and disgusted by him. Tyrion, on the other hand was proving his worth as the most decent Lannister by at least trying to understand him. Even if he couldn’t get all of the signs right.

“Let me try;” Tyrion said as he pointed to himself, pointed to his nose and dragged his middle finger down his arms three times.

_I smell toilet._

Brienne tried to bite back a smile as Jaime grinned and opened his mouth in a silent gesture of the laughter he would have been making. Tyrion shook his head and sighed. “What did I say?”

“You said that you smell like a toilet.” Brienne replied and repeated the gesture of dragged the middle finger of her right hand down her left arm three times. “This sign means toilet.”

“At least I’m trying,” Tyrion argued as even Sansa gave a shy smile as she measured Brienne’s arm span. After their slightly awkward first meeting, Sansa had offered to make Brienne some clothes that would be suitable for her size. Although Brienne was reluctant in the young girl’s ability; she supposed it was better than nothing. Plus, anything that gave Sansa Stark a positive focus after the death of her mother and brother was fine by Brienne. “Has Father spoken to you any further about this marriage?”

Jaime frowned and shook his head. He made a cross with his arms in front of his face and twisted his hand around his ring finger twice.

_I refuse to marry._

“You don’t want to get married?” Tyrion asked and Jaime glared and repeated the cross motion again.

_I refuse._

“You won’t marry?” Tyrion guessed and Jaime nodded. Close enough. “You can try but Father will see this through. He might give you a choice, considering you’re the golden son. Do you think you’ll have a say in the matter?”

Jaime pulled a face and gave his smirking brother the middle finger. One of the few signs that was universal and needed no translation.

As the days passed; Jaime and Brienne began to settle into a new routine in the Red Keep. Now that Jaime had been formally dismissed from the Kingsguard; he and Brienne spent a lot of their time sparring and fighting. When they weren’t sparring, they were either practising their signing or teaching it to Tyrion and Sansa. Although Sansa was learning quickly, Tyrion was still stumbling over even some of the most basic signs and reliant on Brienne to translate for him. Jaime couldn’t deny that he was pleased that there was at least one area wherein he was cleverer than Tyrion. The rest of Jaime’s family remained distant and were either unable or unwilling to communicate with Jaime.

Tywin ignored anything Jaime did unless it was written on paper. Cersei maintained her stance on outright ignoring him. Tommen was unsure of how to react and kept as quiet as Jaime. Joffrey thought the whole situation was hilarious and spoke as if Jaime was deaf as well as mute. At least he did until Joffrey made a derogatory comment about Brienne that turned her cheeks scarlet with humiliation.

Jaime didn’t sign or write anything. Instead he stared Joffrey in the eye and drew his sword from its scabbard before raising his eyebrows testily at him. The point was made clear and Joffrey cowered back. He knew what happened to kings that angered Jaime. Yet once Joffrey had scuttled off to hide behind Cersei’s skirts, Jaime turned and kicked the wall in frustration. His lips were mouthing words that he couldn’t say, his face screwed up with the emotions that he couldn’t verbalize. Brienne knew that if he could speak, he would have been ranting and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Jaime stopped kicking the wall and instead leaned against it. His face was still screwed up, he was forcing himself not to cry as he made one gesture. He signed crowning himself and slitting his throat before pointing to himself.

_Kingslayer. I’m the Kingslayer._

Brienne tilted his chin up with her right hand and made a sign with her left. She held out the index and thumb of her left hand before using them to point to herself, at Jaime and herself again.

_Jaime. You are Jaime._

Jaime wiped his eyes and Brienne put her arms around him. She hadn’t meant to hug him but he seemed so helpless, devastated and alone. She had felt those feelings before and had no one to show comfort, that they cared. Brienne knew that she had made the right choice when Jaime latched onto her with the force of a drowning man clinging to his salvation and buried his head in her neck. Brienne tightened her hold on him and tracing circles on his back to reassure him and calm him down.

Jaime felt tears slip from his eyes and tried to wipe them on Brienne’s shoulder without her noticing. He was never more pleased with her decision to stay in the capital; he had no idea how he would have coped without her at his side. She was the only one who could physically understand him, the only one who could speak for him when even his own signing failed him. Sometimes, it was as if she could see into his head, like she could hear the words he was screaming in his mind and able to say them for him. She was the closest and truest friend that he had ever had. And yet, she had no idea how much he appreciated her. Even now, just being with him, offering that strong, silent support, he didn’t just feel like she was calming him down. Being held in her arms, felt like home.

As Jaime stepped back from the hug, he looked at Brienne and attempted a smile as he held his hand to his chin and held it out.

_Thank you._

The hug seemed to unlock a door between them. Until that point, physical contact between them had been limited to linked fingers or rare touches on the hand or arm. Now physical contact came easier to the both of them. Neither of them had been particularly tactile people before but now it felt as natural as signing. They would lean against the other when sitting, hands would naturally reach out and hold the other’s when walking, each conversation at the end of the night ended with a hug and Jaime signing sweet dreams at her. Their daily fighting and training became more of a dance between them and if one helped the other up from a fall or knock to the ground, they held on for a moment or two longer than they should have.

Just a moment. Or two.

The thought struck Jaime one afternoon when he and Brienne had joined Tyrion and Sansa in their chambers. Sansa had made Brienne a dress to wear for the wedding and she was eager to see Brienne in it and any possible changes she could make. The thought had struck Jaime when Brienne had stepped out from behind the screen; not because she was wearing a dress made of deep sapphire blue which highlighted her eyes and was tailored to flatter her body, but it was the look in her eyes. A look that he had never seen in her eyes before. Jaime knew she felt beautiful in the dress; something he knew that she had never felt before. Jaime felt a rush of affection, more intense than he had ever felt before and a thought struck him.

He wanted Brienne to have that look in her eyes every day. He never wanted her to doubt that she was beautiful ever again. Because she was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to him; not just in her looks but in her heart and soul too. She was compassionate, kind hearted, brave, loyal, intelligent, and witty and the realisation hit him as forcefully as a brick to the head. 

How had he not realised it before?

He was in love with Brienne of Tarth.

“It’s wonderful Sansa,” Brienne said truthfully as she admired the dress in the mirror. Instead of trying to show a femininity that didn’t exist, like other seamstresses had attempted in the past, Sansa had chosen to make the dress sleeveless, showing her arms and coming in slightly at her hips before falling into a full skirt that moved easily as she walked. It didn’t bare her bust like other dresses or cling to places it shouldn’t cling, it was the sort of dress she imagined when she indulged in rare fantasies. Ones where she was a beauty and could wear a dress with ease.

“Thank you,” Sansa replied. “I thought the loose skirt would be better for moving or dancing, like when you’re fighting, you wear looser clothing.”

“I think it would,” Brienne said as she held out the skirt, feeling the smoothness of the material against her fingers. Brienne looked at Jaime and Tyrion, who had been carefully quiet in their discussion before she pointed at them with two fingers and tapped her temple with the same two fingers.

_What do you think?_

“You look marvellous Lady Brienne,” Tyrion replied verbally, not trusting himself to sign the wrong thing. Brienne looked at Jaime who smiled at her before pretending to swoon dramatically onto the bed. Jaime sat up and with his right hand, traced a circle across the edge of his face twice. One word, one sign that he’d never used before, not to Brienne, not about Brienne.

_Beautiful._

Brienne smiled softly and pressed her hand to her chin and held it out, thanking him, before returning back behind the screen to change into her clothes. She tried to not think too much about Jaime’s response. She did feel that she looked beautiful in the dress and Jaime had started to playact with his signing; especially when expressing his emotions he chose to be more comical and overdramatic unless he was genuinely frustrated or upset. Things had started to change between them. Brienne wasn’t sure how to describe it; they were close friends, of that she was certain. Although it was also possible that they weren’t just close friends anymore.

Later that evening, Jaime led Brienne out into the gardens for a walk. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon as they wandered through the water gardens towards the worn out steps that led down to a small cove of Blackwater Bay. As they walked across the pebble cove, Jaime glanced nervously at Brienne. He had been thinking about this all day, although if he was honest with himself, this thought had existed in the back of mind since he had returned to the capital and was informed that he was going to be married. It had been a reckless thought then; now he was certain of nothing else but this.

Brienne could tell that there was something weighing heavily on his mind. She signed his name but Jaime just gave her a reassuring smile before he wandered down to the water’s edge. Jaime picked up a pebble and attempted to skim it across the waves. Brienne smiled and did the same, taking the time to choose a suitable stone and flicking it with the right amount of force to send it skipping across the waves. Jaime grinned at her before he pointed back up the direction they had come from. Brienne turned to look at where he had pointed but couldn’t see a thing.

“I don’t see anyth-“ Brienne trailed off as she turned back to Jaime to see him knelt down on one knee on the pebbles. They were close enough to the edge of the water that the waves were ebbing and flowing over their shoes and Jaime’s knee. “What is this?”

Jaime took a deep breath and he held her hands in his. He set Brienne’s hands over his heart before turning her hands back towards her.

_My heart is yours._

Jaime then let go of her right hand and kept a hold of her left hand. He traced his finger over her ring finger twice before pointing to himself.

_Marry me._

“You want me to marry you?” Brienne asked and Jaime nodded, placing her hand over his heart again.

_My heart is yours._

“Your heart is mine?” Brienne guessed and Jaime nodded again. He placed one finger to his temple and pointed to his heart before pointing at her. One finger at the temple translated as I feel.

_I love you._

Brienne’s eyes widened at that. She knew that things had been changing between them, she hadn’t dared to even dream or hope that they would be changing like this. That they would have these feelings for each other. Had they been there all along or had they found them along the way; their experiences bringing them together instead of tearing them apart? She wasn’t sure, the only thing she knew for certain was that this was real. This wasn’t a joke or a cruel trick. She could see the anxiety in Jaime’s eyes; she hadn’t given him an answer, he wasn’t sure if she felt the same. He knew that she was afraid that this was an attempt to mock her, to make fun of her.

Jaime held three fingers to his temple and set them over his heart again.

_I know I love you._

Brienne mimicked his actions, setting three fingers to her temple before setting them over her heart.

_I know I love you._

Jaime beamed at her and with his fingers trembling nervously, he traced his finger over her ring finger and pointed to himself.

_Will you marry me?_

Brienne grinned at him and nodded her head. She took his left hand and nodded as she traced two circles around his finger.

_Yes, I will marry you._

Brienne helped Jaime to his feet and they wrapped their arms around each other, hugging over another tightly. Brienne could feel Jaime’s lips against her cheek. He wasn’t trying to kiss her, he was mouthing words. Brienne moved back so she could see him; Jaime looked at her and mouthed the words again. Although it was slightly unclear, Brienne knew what he was saying.

“I love you too,” Brienne said, gently cupping his face in her hands. Jaime closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. Brienne kissed him back and in that moment, nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.

It was them against the world. It always had been and it always would be.


End file.
